


Of Hobbits and Heartaches:an epic,fix-it,lore-heavy,crossover rewrite of the Hobbit and LoTR

by MrToddWilkins



Category: For Better or For Worse (Comics), Sweet Valley High - Francine Pascal, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alfrid Lickspittle Lives, Arda and Planetos are the same world, Avril is April, Baelor Lives, Bree - Freeform, Crossover, Denethor would like to just sneak off and become a bard, Dol Amroth, Ecthelion II’s A+ Parenting, Epic Length, Erebor, Expanded Middle Earth, F/M, Good Saruman, Isengard, Lothlórien, Minas Tirith, Minstrels - Freeform, Mirkwood, Parody, Random events, Rhûn, Rivendell, Rohan, Saruman is impersonated by a Nazgul, Siege of Gondor, Song: Bohemian Rhapsody, Steampunk, The Shire, Time Travel Fix-It, We must build a canal, Westeros is in the far south beyond Harad, Winston the canal engineer, better living through time travel, fixes both Hobbit and LOTR, so yeah BSC crossover, the Beorninghús, the beaches of Middle Earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2020-09-18 19:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrToddWilkins/pseuds/MrToddWilkins
Summary: This is an epic-ass parody of Hobbit Heartache by Samantha Clark. Features:the SVH gangOodles of Middle-Earth loreThilbo bromanceAragorn the Assertiveand tropes





	1. Epigraph

_The greatest adventure is what lies ahead._  
Today and tomorrow are yet to be said.  
The chances, the changes are all yours to make.  
The mold of your life is in your hands to break.  
  
The greatest adventure is there if you're bold.  
Let go of the moment that life makes you hold.  
To measure the meaning can make you delay;  
It's time you stop thinkin' and wasting the day.  
  
The man who's a dreamer and never takes leave  
Who thinks of a world that is just make-believe  
Will never know passion, will never know pain.  
Who sits by the window will one day see rain.  
  
The greatest adventure is what lies ahead.  
Today and tomorrow are yet to be said.  
The chances, the changes are all yours to make.  
The mold of your life is in your hands to break.


	2. From a Lake-town poem about Smaug’s attack

> _The goodness and laughter, and sincere fun,_   
_And smiles that light faces of everyone,_   
_And souls, as windows, are open so widely._
> 
> _The heavenly heights are clear and pure_   
_The troubles and fears won't touch us for sure_   
_And days are passing_   
_And days are passing_   
_All days are passing_   
_Too idly_
> 
> _But the storm has came,as always it comes_   
_The misfortune fastly replaced the fun_   
_With fire and sword, which silenced a lyre_
> 
> _And useless became the disaster alarm_   
_A dragon of paper couldn't surely do harm..._   
_A dragon of paper_   
_A dragon of paper_   
_Brave dragon of paper..._   
_To dragon of fire_
> 
> _The ruins in the sunset are icy glossed,_   
_An ancient ages covered with frost_   
_Blind darkness crawls on the horizon _
> 
> _The twilight consumes last sunset aglow_   
_But someone will leave a trail in deep snow_   
_One trail that leadst thou_   
_One trail that leadst thou_   
_Weak trail that leadst thou_   
_To faraway hope_


	3. Book 1:THE GREATEST ADVENTURE

_Wherein is told by Mr.Bilbo Baggins how a company of Dwarves,young Men,and a wandering Wizard recruited him on an Adventure,and he left the Shire on a most wondrous Quest,involving treasures held in fee by a Dragon,and met the future King,but also overcame dangers,including having to outwit Trolls,and the half-hobbit Gollum,who was possessed of a most curious Ring._


	4. List of Sweet Valley students going to Middle Earth

Cammi Adams  
Terri Adams   
Danielle Alexander  
Kirk Anderson  
Tracey Atkins  
Penny Ayala  
Tina Ayala  
Sandra Bacon  
Roger Barrett-Patman  
Kelly Bates  
Ginny Belasca  
Justin Belson  
Alicia Benson  
Sonia Bentley  
Josh Bowen  
Helen Bradley  
Tim Bradley  
Stacey Cabot  
Ricky Capaldo  
Charlie Cashman  
Bill Chase  
Tamara Chase  
Guy Chesney  
Theodore Collins  
Ginny Culpepper  
Aaron Dallas  
Jim Daly  
Olivia Davidson  
April Dawson  
Peter DeHaven  
Lisa DePaul  
Leslie Decker  
Max Dellon  
Brooke Dennis  
Tim Duncan  
Ronnie Edwards  
Winston Egbert  
Mandy Farmer  
Sandra Ferris  
Bryce Fisherman  
Sophia Fisherman  
Leslie Forsythe  
Lila Fowler  
Neil Freemount  
Jeffrey French  
Patty Gilbert  
Kerry Glenn  
Dee Dee Gordon   
Elizabeth Gordon  
Hugh Grayson  
Denise Hadley  
Suzanne Hanlon  
Michael Harris  
Kimberly Haver  
Molly Hecht  
Robbie Hendricks  
Lynne Henry  
Sally Holcombe  
Daniel Jacobson  
Pamela Jacobson  
Rosie Jameson  
Toni Jennings  
Tad Johnson  
Zach Johnson  
Dana Larson  
Jeremy Larson  
Sally Larson  
Belinda Layton  
Manuel Lopez  
Roberta Manning  
Randy Mason  
Ken Matthews  
Emily Mayer  
Michael McAllery  
Jerry McAllister  
Pamela McDonald  
Tom McKay  
Claire Middleton  
Amanda Miller  
Jennifer Mitchell  
Aline Montgomery  
Nicolas Morrow  
Regina Morrow  
Chloe Murphy  
Tim Nelson  
Shelly Novak  
Grace Oliver  
Ricky Ordway  
Bruce Patman  
Caroline Pearce  
John Pfeiffer  
Danny Porter  
Johanna Porter  
Julia Porter  
David Prentiss  
Abbie Richardson  
Ellen Riteman  
Barry Roarke  
Jim Roberts  
Enid Rollins  
Maria Santelli  
Christy Seltzer  
Nicky Shepard  
Paul Sherwood  
Andrea Slade  
Maria Slater  
Susan Stewart  
Danny Stouffer  
Amy Sutton  
Scott Trost  
Cathy Ulrich  
Elizabeth Wakefield  
Jessica Wakefield  
Cara Walker  
Mary Wallace  
Lois Waller  
Allan Walters  
Lisa Walton  
Jean West  
Becky White  
Annie Whitman  
Todd Wilkins  
Robin Wilson  
Leanne Woodruff  
Sam Woodruff  
Susan Wyler  
Janice Young


	5. Of Gods and Second Chances

_November 4,2941_

When Thorin son of Thrain woke up,he was in a world of hurt. His surroundings were unfamiliar and misty. It seemed he was in a great cavern,or perhaps a large open space. He was vaguely aware of vast columns in the distance. _Illusory columns?_

Where was the Hobbit? Where was the frozen lake? Last he recalled, he had been bleeding at the edges of the silent battlefield,in the arms of Tharkûn. His madness had passed, but it had exacted too high a price. His nephews were bleeding somewhere in the vast battlefield. He had to get to them! He _had _to! He shouted a battle cry,in case some surprise enemy should come charging out of the shadows. “Buruk Khazad! Khazad ai-menû!” “_Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!” _

There was no response,save for a deep voice that came out of the skies.

”Be at peace,my son.”

”Who are you?”, Thorin demanded of the voice. Now he saw that he stood on a field of silvery grass.

_“_Your Creator,he who first made the _khazâd _in the deeps of time.”

”M-Mahal?” Thorin felt dumbstruck. _I must be dead,or almost so. _“Where am I?”

”A great space in my halls,both under and over the Earth.”

”Where are my nephews?”

”In the antechamber. I have offered them what I am about to offer you. They have accepted.”

”What have you done to steal the light from my eyes,oh great one?”

”The dragon sickness was not of you,nor of the pride you felt on the way. It came from the Enemy.”

Thorin frowned. "What Enemy? Sauron was killed by the Last Alliance in the days of Durin IV, and no great powers save Angmar and the dragons have arisen since.”

”Nay. The Ring you wore,though not the ring I bequeathed to Durin long ago,still had the malice of the Enemy in it. By Enemy I mean the Great Enemy,Morgoth himself whom you call _Kalïnałed,_the _Doombringer. _He it was who made a Ring of Arda itself.”

”In one thing I have heard true of you,Father. You speak in riddles.”

”Such is ever the way of the Valar. And let me reveal to you something else.”

Thorin sat. “Go on,Father. I am listening.”

”Gold that a dragon has slept on has a power of its own. The great Dragons were created in ancient times by Morgoth,corruptions of my brother Manwe’s Eagles. They were made to be the downfall of the Dwarves, and so they remain your greatest challenge. And there is another challenge ahead. The One Ring,Sauron’s sole anchor to this world,remains. You have seen It with your own eyes.”

”I have?”

”Yes. Your Burglar found it,in the caves underneath Goblin-town. He even now bears it.”

”How has it not corrupted his innocent mind?”

”Two reasons. First,the _Periannath _do not have power,nor do they desire it. The Ring acts on such impulses since It was cut from His hand. And second.he has only used it to hide from unfriendly eyes.”

Thorin marveled. _The One Ring,under my very nose the entire time! Sulladad must be laughing like a madman in the Timeless Halls._

“Would you change things?” 

“If I could,I would. I would avoid all the senseless death my madness led to.”

”Then listen well,Thorin, and perhaps you will have the chance.”

”I am listening,my lord.”

”You will go to an alternate timeline. There,you will receive much help. I cannot yet divulge the nature of such help.”

”When will I arrive?”

”The morning of March 14 last,the day before your meeting with Gandalf.”

”Very well,then. Let it be.”

Thorin closed his eyes,and felt the Vala’s power encircle him.

———

(From the Annals of Moria Restored)

12719 D.R. (T.A.2939) – As Thorin Oakenshield had long brooded on a plan to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, he decided not to leave the stewardship of his halls to his young nephew Kíli, and in fact decided to take him and his younger brother Fíli along with him. Thorin Oakenshield appointed Gormr son of Gyron as his secondary at Thorin’s Halls. Gormr, of Dourhand line, had proven himself to be a wise and faithful councillor of Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to The Dwarrow Scholar,Sulladad is the Khuzdul name for Eru Iluvatar.


	6. In which the gang arrives

_March 10,2941_

“Oh, Liz! I think I can almost see land!” Jessica Wakefield squealed, bouncing up and down in her airplane seat. “Look; I’m so excited that I have goose bumps!” she said, extending a tanned arm for her twin sister Elizabeth to inspect.

“Yup, you sure do,” Elizabeth confirmed, taking in Jessica’s slim, goose bumped arm. “But what changed from this morning when you told me you’d rather be stuck on a desert island with Winston Egbert again than go to Middle-earth - whatever it is - for Spring Break?”

“Welllll,” Jessica drawled, “I decided that even if Middle-earth seems boring, I’ll just make sure that I meet some not-so-boring boys to make it fun. Plus, I bet they’ll be sexy like Ken Matthews.“

To that,Elizabeth could only smile. Typical Jessica,always concerned with boys. It was just in her nature,Liz supposed. Jessica was a flirtatious fashionista with a second sense for the latest trends in clothing. She had had more boyfriends than Liz could count. She enjoyed hanging out with her girlfriends,people like Lila Fowler or Amy Sutton.

Liz,on the other hand,was more conservative. She had had only one boyfriend:Todd Wilkins,who she had dated since sixth grade. True,she had female friends,but they were the type that didn’t normally attract much attention. People like Enid Rollins,Olivia Davidson,or Chloe Murphy. People whom (she suspected) few would miss if ever they were to leave Sweet Valley.

On the outside,you could barely tell the twins apart. They were both 5 feet 6.with long blonde hair and deep blue eyes. But they did have their exterior differences. For example,Liz had a shoulder mole where Jessica did not.

—————

The class trip had its origins two weeks earlier,when a committee had been debating potential locations. Mr Collins,the English teacher (who was one of the two chaperones),had told the committee of a mysterious dream he’d had where a portal had opened to another land,a land straight out of a fantasy book. When they’d taken off from Sweet Valley Intercontinental,he had flown the plane northeast. Then there had been a sucking sound,and when the sound ended they were over water. This must be Middle Earth,they knew.

At last Mr Collins made an announcement. “Attention. We are coming to our landing near the town of Bree.”

The landing was uneventful,the wheels of the plane hitting grass. When everyone had gotten out,Mr Collins took a headcount. They were all there.

”Let us camp for the night near Andrath. There we may meet Rangers.”

———

I suppose you want to know what a Ranger is before you meet one.

The human kingdom that once had spanned Eriador (which was where they’d landed) was that of Arnor, founded by men fleeing from the destruction of the island of Westernesse. These men, the Dunedain, had been blessed with many gifts: long life of 200 years and more, and various powers more akin to elf-magic than human craft. They had built great fortresses and forged spell-swords against their undead enemies. Their diminished descendants could still read the thoughts behind your voice and face, tame wild horses with a word, heal ailments of body and mind with herb and song, and march fourteen leagues in a day, or so it is said. After the fall of Arnor those descendants had withdrawn into marshes to the east, close to their elf-kindred, but they still sent out the Rangers, men (and occasionally women) charged with defending the remaining people of Arnor, at their own cost, without tax or lordship. They had done their best, but by now their task had been greatly simplified, for instead of scattered settlements vulnerable to orc or troll, there was now only the Shire, one single but large point to rally around.

The Dunedain were for the most part tall, moderately pale of skin, dark of hair and grey of eyes. In Westernesse more of them them had been blond and blue eyed, but many of that kindred had turned to evil, and been caught up in the Downfall; the survivors were as described. Some, though, were much darker, the product of two thousand years of voyaging and empire far down the shores of Middle-earth, and a few looked less human than dwarves did, distant kindred of the Druedain who had once lived in Westernesse, but fled long before its end.

The former kingship had descended to a Chieftain of the Dunedain, who was also Chieftain of the Rangers -- and thus rarely actually around to make decisions for the settlement of the Dunedain. A Steward, sometimes the wife or mother of the Chieftain, sometimes another elder, generally ran things, and sometimes there would be conflict when a Chieftain who rarely lived there thought he could override the decisions of his Steward.

Strangest of all was their relationship to their elf-kindred. For near the Dunedain camp was the valley of Imladris, or Rivendell, run by Elrond Half-elven, the great- -- with many, many, greats- -- great-uncle of the Chieftains. Often the heirs of the kings of Arnor had been fostered with him, and all of the heirs of the Chieftains were, and he held the royal heirlooms of Arnor for safekeeping. He claimed no lordship over the descendants of his brother's people -- he barely claimed a lordship even among the elves, despite being the heir to two different kingdoms -- and yet his opinion, no matter how cautiously and rarely expressed, had nearly the status of law. The Dunedain were an independent people, and yet all their Chiefs for a thousand years looked to him as a second father, and the ageless sons of Elrond rode with the Rangers.


	7. The Wizard and the King

_ **March 15,2941** _

A driving rain assailed Thorin Oakenshield as he rode up to the doors of the Prancing Pony,the sign of which read THE PRANCING PONY, BY BARRISTAN BUTTERBUR. The Sun was setting away over the Shire Road,invisible in a red haze on the horizon. Overhead,the sky was the color of the clay his Blacklock kin mined in their eastern halls. It was not a promising sky,and Dwarves usually kept track of these things. Skies were as omens to them,and this was one omen Oïn would rue if ever he saw it.

Thorin had heard strange rumors from the honest folk of the Bree-land. The rumors told of a mysterious band of half-Elves coming out of the farthest South to aid the Dunedain Rangers. They supposedly bore swords made out of _galvorn_ and other sky-metals long forgotten except by the Elves. They could run farther than even the Rangers,endure for longer than even the stoutest Hobbit,and yet we’re fit folk,or so said the rumors.

As for Bree itself,it was the chief village of the Bree-land, a small inhabited region, like an island in the empty lands round about. Besides Bree itself, there was Staddle on the other side of the hill, Combe in a deep valley a little further eastward, and Archet on the edge of the Chetwood. Lying round Bree Hill and the villages was a small country of fields and tamed woodland only a few leagues broad. The village of Bree had some hundred stone houses of the Big Folk, mostly above the Road, nestling on the hillside with windows looking west. On that side, running in more than half a circle from the hill and back to it, there was a deep dike with a thick hedge on the inner side. Over this the Road crossed by a causeway; but where it pierced the hedge it was barred by a great gate. There was another gate in the southern comer where the Road ran out of the village. The gates were closed at nightfall; but just inside them were small lodges for the gatekeepers.  
Down on the Road, where it swept to the right to go round the foot of the hill, there was a large inn. It had been built long ago when the traffic on the roads had been far greater. For Bree stood at an old meeting of ways; another ancient road crossed the East Road just outside the dike at the western end of the village, and in former days Men and other folk of various sorts had travelled much on it. But the Northern Lands had long been desolate, and the North Road was now seldom used: it was grass-grown, and the Bree-folk called it the Greenway.


	8. Enter Bilbo

_April 25,2941_

  
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty wet hole, filled with worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry hole, bare and sandy, with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.  
It had a round door like a porthole, painted green, with a yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened into a long hall, shaped like a tunnel, airy, but dark when the lamps were not lit. Its floor was tiled and carpeted, there were polished chairs against the walls, and rows of pegs for hats and coats – the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel went on a good way into the side of the hill, the Hill of Hobbiton, near the top of which the hobbit lived; and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on the other. There wasn’t any going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries, wardrobes (rooms full of clothes), kitchens, breakfast-room, dining-room, drawing room, all were on the same floor. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side as you went in, for only these had windows, deep-set round windows looking over the garden to meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.  
The hobbit was very well-to-do, it was said, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighborhood of Hobbiton for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures nor did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the trouble of asking him. But this story tells how a Baggins had adventures, and found himself saying and doing things altogether unexpected. He got caught up in great events, which he never really understood; and he became enormously important, though he only reluctantly realized it.  
How astonishing this was will be better understood by those who know something about hobbits. They are a small people, about half our height or less, often smaller than the Dwarves , to whom they are quite unrelated: hobbits never have beards. They love peace and the quiet of a well-ordered and well-farmed countryside; most of them are in fact farmers in a small way, though many are clever with tools. They have long and skilful fingers and make many useful and well-shaped things, mostly of wood or clay or leather. But there are very few shoemakers among them, for they seldom wear either shoes or boots. They do not need them, for their feet have tough leathery soles, and are covered as high as the ankles in thick curling hair, warm and brown like the hair on their heads. They have good-natured faces, broad, bright-eyed and red-cheeked, and mouths shaped for laughter. And laugh they do, and eat, and drink, often and heartily; for they are fond of jests at all times, and like six meals a day (when they can get them).  
They dress in bright colours, especially yellow and green, for they delight in fields and trees. Though they are inclined to grow rather fat, and do not hurry unnecessarily,they are nimble; and quick of hearing too, and sharp-eyed. They had from the first the art of moving swiftly and silently, disappearing when large folk that they did not wish to meet came blundering by. To us that might seem magical; but Hobbits have never in fact studied magic of any kind, their skill is a gift improved by long practice and helped by their friendship with the earth and all growing things.  
More can be said, but for the present that is a good enough description of Hobbits, or at least of that kind that live, as they have done for hundreds of years, in the little land that they call the Shire.  
The chief family in the Shire is the Tooks, whose lands lie across The Water, the small river that runs at the foot of the Hill. Now that is important, for the mother of the hobbit of this tale, Bilbo Baggins, was Belladonna Took, eldest of the three remarkable daughters of the Old Took, head of all the Tooks, and famous for having lived to the age of one hundred and thirty. It was often said (in other families) that the Tooks must have some elvish blood in them: which was of course absurd, but there was undoubtedly something queer about them, something not quite hobbitlike, according to the manners of the Shire: an outlandish strain maybe from long ago. Often she would go off on adventures. She disappeared for a while, and the family hushed it up.  
Not that Belladonna Took ever had any adventures after she married Bungo Baggins. Bungo, that was Bilbo’s father, built for her the most commodious hobbit-hole that was to be found in that part of the Shire, always excepting the vast and many-tunneled dwelling of the Tooks. It was meant, of course, to house a large family. But Bilbo was their only son, and they both died young – for hobbits – being still in their early eighties. And there now was Bilbo, in the commodious hole, looking and behaving like a second edition of his solid and comfortable father. But maybe there was something a little peculiar in his make- up coming from the Took side, hidden, but waiting for a chance to come out. The chance never arrived, until Bilbo Baggins was grown up, indeed about fifty years old, and had apparently settled down immovably.  
  



End file.
